My First Job

A lot of people don’t believe me when I tell them I got my first job when I was in the third grade.  My family lived in a small town on the south side of Chicago called Western Springs.  I wanted a bicycle desperately and my parents thought it would be a great idea at that time to show me the value of money.  They insisted that I get a job and earn the money myself to buy the bike.  Because of my age I didn’t really qualify for many jobs but I did however manage to get an interview with the local paper distributor of the Chicago Tribune.  Yes, a paper boy.

I interviewed with an overweight bald man that worked in a trailer that was parked next to his home.  His name now escapes me but I have since referred to him as Mr. Daley because of his resemblance to the original Mayor Daley of Chicago, and the fact that he was no less intimidating.  He gave me the job but not before declaring..… “No house will be forgotten…. or else“.   He didn’t have to tell me what might happen if I failed to deliver someone their paper because my imagination was hard at work on its own creating possible punishments for such failure.   A brilliant strategy on his part actually and a strategy I have since tried on my own kids.

Fortunately my route was not very large and the streets were flat.  It was the perfect job for me.  A truck would drop off the papers on the sidewalk in front of my house and every day before school I would put my paper sack on and walk up and down the four or five blocks of my route flinging a paper at each house that was on my list.  Sundays were more difficult because of the size of the paper so I had to use my wagon and hand carry each paper to its door.   The job taught me a lot about my neighborhood and about people in general.  Here are a few things I learned.  If they are not picking up their paper they are probably on vacation or dead.  Women are better tippers then men and younger women are better tippers than older women.  If their lawn is not mowed they do not have children.  It doesn’t matter how cold it is or how much snow is on the ground people still expect their news on time.

And this brings me to the part that I did not foresee when I first took the job.  My father had a saying about winter in Chicago, “last year’s winter was the coldest winter ever only until next year.”  It’s called the windy city for a reason but it really should have been called the freezing wind city.  The first winter I had the paper route was of course the “worse winter ever”.  The freezing winds along with snow piled up to my waist made it near impossible for me to find each house.  Yet somehow I managed.   When the snow started to melt it created slushy rivers on the sidewalks and streets making my feet wet even if I was wearing boots or galoshes. These conditions were a little better and at times I had fun jumping in all the slushy puddles.  Then the freezing winds would kick up again turning everything to ice, including my feet.   This process repeated itself several times during the course of a Chicago winter.  By the time I got back home, took a warm bath and had a warm breakfast I was already 15 minutes late for school.  So my school tardies were starting to mount up.  But I had to be defrosted and my parents had no choice, steadfast as they were in this valuable lesson they were teaching me.

 I made it through winter and was probably getting close to having the money I needed for the bike when the job started to take on a different meaning to me.  It was about responsibility and perseverance and succeeding no matter the circumstance.  Those are easy words to say during the spring and it’s funny just how soon the people of Chicago forget about the last winter.  During the summer Mr. Daley gave me additional routes and except for the issue I was having with one of the flag lots in our neighborhood he was very pleased with me.  Sundays were becoming difficult because I could only carry 20 papers at a time in my wagon and since my route was now larger it required additional trips back to my house to pick up more.

Then of course came the “worse winter ever”.  They tell you how cold it is in Chicago by a measurement called the wind chill factor.  After a certain point, however, it doesn’t really matter what the number is.  Who can tell the difference between -25 and -35 degree wind chill factor?  Seriously!  It was a Sunday and I was bundling up to do my route, the wind chill was way past freezing and the snow was one or two feet high with snow banks created by the wind that were 3 or 4 feet.  My father walked me to the door looked outside and saw the pallet of Sunday papers waiting on our sidewalk.  That was all he could take.  He grabbed his jacket, hat, gloves and keys and we loaded up the station wagon.  That was the last winter I delivered papers and we soon moved to Southern California where I plan on living for the rest of my life.

My first job taught me many lessons.  I believe if you work hard you will be rewarded but it may be in a way you don’t expect.  You also need to plan your route before you start.  The early bird really does get the worm when it’s not freezing out.  Some things you just can’t do alone.